


Fade To Black

by mittwoch



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Fear of Flying, Fluff, Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:39:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittwoch/pseuds/mittwoch
Summary: In which Jimmy's life becomes a RomCom.(A.K.A. the airplane fic no one asked for)





	

All Jimmy wanted to do was go home.

He hated airports and everything about them: the crowd, the noise, the overly priced water, the flying. 

He especially hated the flying. 

Jimmy preferred travelling via solid ground. The thought of floating in the air, trapped in a tiny metal contraption jammed with hundreds of people that could possibly go down any minute, petrified Jimmy. 

He was starting to lose his nerve at the gate. He already had to endure a 45 minute delay due to "technical problems," and now he had to wait in an absurd queue to get on the blasted plane. 

He huffed in frustration, just wanting to get this 12 hour plane ride over as soon as possible. Only 12 hours more and then he would finally be back home on solid ground in London. But first he had to get through this ridiculously long queue. 

It was almost five minutes later when he got to the front. The flight attendant looked as agitated as Jimmy felt with her grimacing scowl as she ripped the boarding pass from Jimmy's hands, scanning it, and shoving it back to him.

Jimmy gave a sarcastic _thanks_ and brushed passed her only to have to wait in line again as people boarded the plane. 

Jimmy didn't understand why it was always such a long process. It was not that difficult to place luggage in an overhead bin, but yet, there was always someone struggling to store their things properly. He watched on in irritation as the old man a few people ahead of him tried to jam his duffle bag into the compartment. The man took so long that someone had to help him.

_Finally_ , Jimmy thought as the man sat down. The line began to quicken from there. 

Jimmy was soon able to find his seat: 26B. It was an aisle seat, which didn't thrill Jimmy too much. For one he couldn't look out the window, which only made his claustrophobia worse. He was stuck staring at the tiny 8 inch monitor in front of him. He also didn't like the fact he would have to move any time 26A wanted to get up. He was already going to have to move once 26A finally got there. That ruined his plans of sleeping through the whole ride. 

Jimmy took his seat, grabbing the provided blanket and pillow that laid in its space. He placed the objects on his lap, not knowing where else to put them. He pondered at the thinness of them. 

_Who in their right mind would think a pillow as thin as a sheet of paper could possibly be comfortable?_

"Excuse me," a polished voice broke Jimmy from his thoughts, "that's my seat, there."

Jimmy looked up to see a kind-eyed man gesturing towards the window seat with a crooked smile. 

"Oh right," Jimmy gave a practiced smile, standing up so the man could slide by.

_So, it begins._

It was a tight squeeze for the man to get through due to the narrow rows. The two men ended up rubbing chests.

Jimmy was grateful the man was at least good looking. He presented himself in a decent manner, wearing a maroon jumper over a button-up shirt, the collar of it just sticking out the neck of it. Jimmy now felt a bit underdressed in a hoodie and jeans. The man even had his hair slicked back, whereas Jimmy's curled all over the place. 

In any other circumstance, Jimmy would have dressed more respectably. He took pride in his looks, however, when it came to plane rides, comfort took precedence. If he knew he was going to be miserable, he was going to make himself as comfortable as possible before hand.

Jimmy sat back down and shook his legs. He couldn't control them. His nerves were becoming worse as the claustrophobia set in. With the man now sitting next to him and aisle being crowded with people, Jimmy was losing the ability to breathe. 

He could feel himself become clammy. A cold sweat broke out down his back and across his forehead. He wasn't even in the air yet, and he was already panicking. He closed his eyes to try to calm himself.

When he re-opened them, he was surprised to see a cool bottle of water on the tray in front of him. The condensation dripped down its plastic sides. Jimmy curiously picked up the bottle, wondering where it came from. The answer was given to him when 26A leaned in close to Jimmy, nudging his shoulder, "That ought to help you."

Jimmy graciously accepted the man's offer and gulped down its contents. The icy water refreshed his parched mouth. 

"I used to have a fear of flying myself, so I know all the tricks." He ended with a wink.

Though the drink had helped, Jimmy was still a wreck. He couldn't form a sentence longer than two words without feeling the urge to faint. Therefore, he just smiled at the man before shutting his eyes again.

He remained in that position for twenty or so more minutes. He opened his eyes at the sound of the pilot on the overhead wishing everyone a good flight. 

"Finally," Jimmy exclaimed in a hush whisper. The man next to him sniggered, which in return made Jimmy let out a small laugh. "Sorry," Jimmy apologized, "I'm anxious to go."

"I understand," the man spoke politely.

The two fell into silence as the flight attendants gave the mandatory safety instructions, seat buckle demonstration included. The plane rumbled viciously beneath them. It was starting to make its way towards the run-way. 

Jimmy wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready to part with his last connection to solid ground. He gripped the armrest tightly. 

"Take deep breaths," said the man next to him, "in through the nose, out through the mouth."

"I'm not giving birth," Jimmy sniped, pouring his nervous energy onto 26A.

"Well it looks like your about to pop out something the way you are floundering 'bout," 26A remarked coolly. 

Jimmy blanched. "Sorry it's just that-"

" _You're nervous_ , I know," he finished for him. "If you try breathing you might feel better."

Jimmy decided to take the man's advice. He inhaled slowly, releasing his grip from the armrest, and as he was about to exhale the plane began to pick-up speed.

"Shit." Jimmy latched onto the armrest again.

"It will be alright," 26A attempted to calm. 

Jimmy had difficulty believing that as the plane began to ascend into the air. The jumbling beneath him made him feel as if the bottom of the plane was going to give out.

His breathing became panicked. He gripped at the armrest tighter, his knuckles turning white.

26A placed a pallid hand over his, his thumb stroking soothingly over Jimmy's. 

He shushed him as one would a baby. Jimmy tried to ignore the comparison and focus solely on 26A's hand on top of his. The warmth brought Jimmy a sense of security like an anchor to holding in place. And that was all Jimmy could concentrate on until the seat-belts-on sign flickered off, catching his eye. 

By this time, Jimmy's breathing returned to normal. There were still knots in stomach, but he no longer felt the urge to faint. 26A withdrew his hand, noticing the improvement himself. Jimmy frowned as he unclicked his painfully tight seatbelt.

The dark-haired man left Jimmy to compose himself as he turned his attention to the small television screen in front of him, swiping through what looked to be RomCom movies.

Jimmy fought off a laugh. The last thing he'd expected the man to be watching was a Romantic Comedy. He looked more of a Crime Thriller, old Hollywood kind of guy. But to each his own.

Jimmy plugged the complimentary headphones into his own television, and flicked through the options. He settled on some action thriller that he heard was supposed to be epic. However, all it did was make Jimmy jumpy.

He was already on edge, having to deal with the plane's sporadic jolts, but having  
explosions going off in his ear every thirty seconds made him paranoid the plane was going down.

Jimmy decided it best to switch off the movie for his own well-being, giving a long sigh as he tried to figure out what to do next. 

He occupied his time fiddling with the television settings until the drink cart came. 26A paused whichever Sandra Bullock movie he chose and ordered himself a Ginger Ale, while Jimmy settled for a Coke.

"Doing any better?" The man sipped his drink.

"A little bit." Jimmy still hadn't gotten full control of his leg shaking.

"Here, have a some of this. It'll help." He offered his small plastic cup of Ginger Ale. "Trust me," he added with a warm smile when Jimmy looked at it questioningly.

He hadn't lead Jimmy a stray before, so he took a small sip. And the man was right. Though the taste wasn't pleasant, it was soothing on his stomach.

"I take it you’re not that much of a flier," he said with a wet smirk as Jimmy handed him back the drink.

"Not really," Jimmy tried to laugh it off. "Try to avoid it as much as possible, in fact."

"Wish I had that luxury. Flying is a part of my job requirement these days."

"What do you do?"

"Do all the shit my boss doesn’t want to do." He flashed an impish grin, causing his eyes to crinkle.

"So, you're an assistant?"

"Of the sorts. My boss has a personal assistant back home, but he isn’t fit to travel. So, any time my boss travels, he gives me a sort of temporary promotion and takes me."

"Why doesn't he promote you permanently? Seems a bit silly to go through the ordeal each time."

"His regular assistant is a lifelong friend or something of the sort." His eyes narrowed, agitated.

"That's bullshit! Isn't that some kind nepotism?" He blurted. 

"Best we keep our voices down, yeah? My boss is on the other side of those curtains," he pointed a finger to the green drapes that signified as the First-Class divider, "and I don't think he'd react too kindly if he overheard us bashing him."

"You mean to say he's in First-Class, and you're back here?"

"Yeah, it's his way of saving money, not that he needs to, " he snarled. "It's not all bad though. I've gotten to see parts of the world I probably would've never seen if it weren't for him."

"Still doesn't seem fair."

"That's the system for you," he quipped bitterly, snatching up his drink and gulping down the its contents. His rigid body shifts to the window.

Jimmy knew he had hit a nerve with the man and immediately wanted to apologize.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.

"So, what brought you here?" 26A asked, pulling his tight lip into a charming smile, all agitation fading.

"Going home."

"What brought you to California in the first place?"

"A friend of mine actually. Moved to L.A. a few weeks ago. He got hired by some bloke who visited the restaurant he used to cook at. The guy liked the food so much, he asked Alfred, my mate that is, to become head chef at his new restaurant in LA. Alfred wanted me to come check it out, so that's me."

"Alfred must be a pretty good friend for you to fly all the way out."

"Wouldn't necessarily say _that_ ," Jimmy couldn't help but laugh, "but we're friends, yeah."

"Is his food worth it?"

"Pardon?" Jimmy asked.

"Is Alfred's food worth the man moving him across the globe?"

"Yeah, Alfred's a great chef, and he loves cooking, so this job is like a dream come true for him: head chef at a big, high-end restaurant like _Utensils_. Can't get any better for him, really."

" _Utensils_ , you say?" The man hummed. "What about you then? What do you do?"

"Me? I'm simple. I work on the train, collecting tickets."

"I think you're far from simple." His eyes tunneled into Jimmy's, and shit. Jimmy had to remind himself to breath.

The stewardess broke the intimate moment, coming around for dinner orders, eyeing the two with a judging sneer as she tapped impatiently on her notepad with chipped gray nails.

"We have fish, chicken, and if you don't eat meat there's a pasta dish," she rattled off, smacking on her gum.

"Uh," Jimmy thought aloud.

"If I were you," a hot whisper came to his ear, "I'd go with the pasta. After years of flying, I've come to learn their definition of meat, and it's definitely not the same as on the ground."

Jimmy breathed out a chuckle and turned to the stewardess, "I'll take the pasta."

"Make that two," the man next to him chimed as the stewardess turned the row besides them.

"Cheers for that," Jimmy smiled.

"Bad enough you have the jitters, don't need you throwing up on top of that." He tossed a wink, and Jimmy wanted to die right there on the spot. He hated being thought of in that kind of light.

26A must had spotted this because he nudged Jimmy's knee with his own. "I'm only joking you...well apart from the throwing up part. If you eat that microwave mess they call fish, you will be tossing it right back up. And anyways, you haven't been shaking since we started talking." 

Jimmy looked down at his legs and sure enough, they had stopped shaking. He didn't even notice it. On the flight over, his leg shook the whole time to the point where he became accustomed to it and ignored it, much to his neighbor's dismay. Jimmy thought the same thing happened this time.

"You're doing much better," the man said. "You even have a bit of color on those gorgeous cheeks of yours."

If they didn't have color on them before, there was definitely color on them now. Jimmy could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks.

Jimmy was used to getting compliments. He got hit on by men in the clubs all the time, but this was different. This wasn't some scumbag trying to get his way into Jimmy's pants. This man looked out for Jimmy's well-being and held his hand, and he didn't even know the man's name.

Jimmy's stomach tightened.

The stewardess returned with flimsy dinner plates, and tossed them onto their trays, speaking in a monotonous tone, "Enjoy, gentlemen."

Jimmy inspected the contents of his tomato pasta with a fork and was pleasantly surprised by its quality.

He could hear the stewardess address the lady across the aisle in a voice ten times nicer than she ever spoke to Jimmy, "And here is your fish, mam."

Jimmy snuck a look at the gray mush on the lady's plate. 

"Made the right choice, eh?"

"Yeah, thanks to some good advice."

The man smirked as he cut into his own dish. 

The two ate in peace, but once the stewardess came around to collect their trash and accidentally dropped the tray down the front of her wrinkled green uniform, spilling violently red tomato sauce down the front, the two started swapping work horror stories.

"Yeah, one time the train broke down late at night, and we lost all electricity. Out in the middle of nowhere with no reception, no anything. Couldn't call for help. It was a complete nightmare! Then the passengers volunteered _me_ to go find help. I was out in the middle of the woods walking aimlessly for hours."

"No," the man gaped in disbelief, highly intrigued by Jimmy's story. "How did you get back?"

"Kept walking until I stumbled across a small town. Scared the daylights of some lady when I showed up on her doorstep at two in the morning covered in mud and leaves," Jimmy huffed a laugh. "Asked to use her phone and called for help. Got out of there about three hours later."

"You're lucky you got out there. Could've gotten lost in those woods."

"Yeah, then I'd be trapped there forever. Would've had to made myself a treehouse and befriend wolves."

"Wolves?" He laughed, amused.

"Wolves live out in the woods," Jimmy defended.

"There are tons of animals out in the woods. Squirrels. Bears. Birds. And your first thought was wolves?" He bit his lip still laughing. "You're a rather strange one, aren't you?"

"Not as strange as a grown man watching chick flicks."

"And what's so strange about that?" His brows arched.

"Out of all the things out there, you choose a Romantic Comedy. Just seems a bit girly to me," Jimmy shrugged. "That's all."

"Have you ever watched one before?"

"No, but I can-"

"Then you can't judge," 26A cut him off and held out one of his ear buds, offering it Jimmy. "Here."

"What?"

He left the ear bud in Jimmy's hand, and flicked through the inflight movie choices before selecting a ghastly looking one with a bright pink title. "Watch this and then you can tell me it's strange to enjoy watching a Romantic Comedy."

"But-"

"Why?" The man eyed. "You got something better to do?"

"Uh, no..."

"Good." He hit play before Jimmy could say anything else.

At the end of the two hours the man turned to Jimmy, looking expectantly. "So?" 

"It wasn't horrible."

The corner of his crimson lips tugged. "I knew you'd enjoy it."

"I didn't say I _enjoyed it_ ," Jimmy pointed out. "I only said it wasn't horrible." 

"Okay, then why are you so against them if they aren't horrible?"

"They all end the same, don't they? The protagonists kiss, everything fades to black, the end."

"Fair enough, but I think it's the getting there that makes it worth it." His eyes softly sparked, looking at Jimmy. 

And then he carried on as if he if didn't just cause Jimmy's throat to dry and heart to pound, scrolling through the other movie options. 'There are better ones out there. Should've watched this one." He tapped a movie on the screen which looked equally as gushy as the one they just watched. "It's a good one."

"How many RomComs have you seen?" He tried to play off, but his throat croaked.

"I grew up with one sister. The majority of my co-workers are female. So trust me, I've seen my fair share. Not to mention I adore Sandra Bullock." He finished with a charming smile that Jimmy never wanted to fade.

He forced himself to look away, licking his lips. "So, you say this movie is better?" He indicated to the screen.

"Loads."

"Let's give it a go then."

"You want to watch another one?" The man was surprised.

"Yeah, I need to see how Sandra falls in love in, but just in a slightly different way."

And yeah, that's the answer they'll go with because it certainly wasn't because he had a new appreciation for these films. Nope, not at all. The man's words did nothing to Jimmy.

"As you wish." The man shook his head wearing a fond smile as he hit play.

And at the fade to black, Jimmy ignored the tug in his stomach, instead responding to 26A's nudge.

"See, some of them can be good."

"Yeah," he pacified, "you're right. That one was loads better." 

"Shame," the man sucked a tooth, eyeing through the remaining movies "looks like there aren't any more good ones left."

"Which means there are none left with Sandra Bullock?" Jimmy teased with an easy grin.

"Yeah, pretty much." 

The man caught his eye, and they broke into laughter which faltered by the abrupt arrival of the stewardess.

"Excuse me gentlemen," she sneered, "most of our passengers are sleeping. We ask for _everyone_ to be respectful of that, so if you'd mind keeping your voices down, it would much appreciated."

"Sorry about that." The man next to him tried to ease.

She forced a smile and turned on her heel.

"You'd think we were yelling or something," Jimmy whispered, looking back down the aisle way to make sure she was gone.

"Probably angry she has to work the night shift while the other girls get the morning."

Jimmy had lost all track of time since they closed their window hours ago, in order to see the movie better. But surely, they hadn't been in the plane more than a few hours. "Can't be that late, can it?" 

26A pulled up his knitted jumper and peered at his silver watch. "It's past midnight I think." 

"Already? Wow."

"Reckon you want to sleep?" He jutted a chin out to the others whom were asleep.

"Me? Nah, not tired, really." He was the opposite actually. His skin pulsated, his veins buzzed. 

What happened to his plan of sleeping the whole flight?

"Yeah, I could stay up for a bit as well." His eyes caught Jimmy's, the bits of gray in them sparkling in tune to the rapid thuds of Jimmy's heart.

Oh, so that's what happened.

"Sorry gentlemen," the stewardess appeared yet again, long strands her strawberry hair falling out of its bun, "but I'm going to ask you to lower your voices further. There have been complaints."

She whipped around without a moment's wait.

"Complaints?" Jimmy scoffed, looking to 26A in astonishment. "From whom? Everyone is sleeping. We weren't even being that loud!"

"Well if she is going to be like that..." Thomas pressed the flight attendant button.

The soft thumps of her black ankle straps trotted down the carpeted aisle. 

"Yes?" Her lips pressed.

"Could we get a couple of Cokes?" The man spoke in a saccharine sweet voice.

"Right away." She said flatly and returned with two small drinks.

Jimmy sipped on his whereas 26A gulped down all of it in one sip and smacked his slickened lips loudly, passing her the empty cup in the process. "Thanks, love. Would you mind getting another one? I'm rather thirsty."

"Of course." She crinkled the cup in her hand tightly, turning her knuckles white.

Jimmy bit back a smile while the man wore a smug smirk which faded upon her return.

"Perfect," he hummed drinking all of the soda in one go, yet again. "Could I get some water too? This is actually making my throat dry."

The woman looked close to cracking. Her eyes bulged as her veins popped under her skin. Nonetheless, she came back with a water, lips sealed into a line.

"Thanks. This is great," the man exaggerated. "Oh, and peanuts would be great as well. I'm getting a bit hungry."

Steam nearly ruptured from her ears as she stormed away. It took all Jimmy had to hold in his laughter. 

"Here you go," she spat a moment later, tossing him the bag. "One bag of peanuts."

She left in a rush, so Jimmy quietly called out, "You know what, I'd love a bag of peanuts as well."

A loud irritated sigh could be heard, leading the men into snickers that immediately stopped when she came back, dropping the small bag of peanuts with force.

"Anything else?" Her eyes fumed.

"You know what," Jimmy started and her face immediately reddened, "can I get a water? These are a bit salty."

"Of course," she spoke through clenched teeth and stomped away.

26A busted into laughter, his eyes close to watering. "I thought I was being cruel, but you're just plain bad. We better stop before she starts spitting in our drinks."

They hush as she brought the water, waiting for more requests. When none came, she sped off.

Jimmy swirled the contents of his water, inspecting an oddly shaped white cluster. "Looks like she already has." He turned it so his neighbor could see. 

His face scrunched, taking the cup and placing it in the far corner of his tray. "Best not drink that."

"So, do you always mess with people that are rude to you?" 

"You should see what I do with people I hate." He wagged his shapely brows.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"Don't think you ever will," he whispered lightly, smiling ever so slightly.

"Excuse me-" the annoying voice of the stewardess began.

"For bloody sakes," 26A spat at being told off again, "we aren't that loud."

"No, it's not that," she clipped. "I have a Mr. Crawley in first class looking for his assistant in row 26."

The man sighed. "That would be me."

"Of course, it is," she whispered under her breath. "Well, he would like you right away. If you would follow me."

He stood up, so Jimmy followed suit as to allow more room in passing. 26A had a good couple of inches on him, Jimmy noted as the man shuffled past, the faint scent of his cologne wafting. He stopped moving when the men came chest to chest and placed a delicate hand on Jimmy's shoulder, scanning his face. "You going to be all right?"

"Yeah," Jimmy stammered, overwhelmed by the sudden contact. "I'll be fine."

The man grinned and lightly patted his shoulders. "Duty calls, then."

He sauntered away, and Jimmy was left light headed. All his senses were beckoning after the man, craving his attention. 

Jimmy had to shake off the feeling. He used the nameless man's time away to stretch and move about the plane, disposing of all the unnecessary Cokes he drank in the tiny closet they call a bathroom.

A hurried knock urged Jimmy to wrap things up, so he splashed water on his face in hopes to coming to his senses, but it did nothing but get his face wet.

He irritably opened the accordian door to find the woman that he spied eating fish, clutching her stomach tightly. Her face was a horrid shade of green as she shoved past Jimmy for the toliet. 

She didn't even have the decency to close the door, subjecting Jimmy to the wretched wet sounds of her food coming back up.

Jimmy returned to his seat slightly nauseous, and a bit agitated, shaking his leg again. He had nearly forgotten about his claustrophobia which was slowly creeping back despite having more room without 26A's presence. 

Somehow this stranger had been able to work his way under Jimmy's skin, finding the perfect way to calm his anxiety (something Jimmy himself had been working on for years), making mundane things like work seem entertaining, sharing laughs, all within a matter of mere hours. 

And it scared the hell out of Jimmy.

26A returned, striding down the aisle way. "Couldn't find his bloody medication that I told him three times before we left that it was in the front pocket of his bag! The man never listens."

He squeezed past Jimmy again, brushing against him with as much contact as possible, sending Jimmy's senses into fits.

"Good thing he has you then," he coughed out his nervous energy, not quite able to look at him.

Jimmy could feel him watching him. "You okay? Look a bit peaky."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just, uh, getting a bit tired that's all," he lied, sinking down in his seat. "Think I might rest for a bit."

"Oh, okay," he spoke slowly. "Good night, then."

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut, needing to escape far away from where he was.

He kept them closed for so long that he eventually nodded off, only to be awakened by a thundering jolt.

"Shit!" His eyes flew open, blurry from sleep. "What was that?"

"It's fine, love." Light fingers brushed through Jimmy's curls. "Just some turbulence."

"Fuck," Jimmy breathed, rubbing his eyes into focus to see he was laying on 26A's angular shoulder. He shifted upright in his seat, and threw the man an apologetic smile. "Sorry 'bout that."

"No worries," he grinned easily. "My shoulder is open to you any time."

And fuck, this man was too damn endearing.

"It's getting light out," he commented. "Should be landing in a couple hours."

"That was fast." 

"Well you know the saying, time _flies_ when you're having fun." He gave a cocky smirk.

"Oh God," Jimmy chuffed, throwing his head back. "That's terrible."

He gleamed, clearly enjoying Jimmy's torture. "It looks like my joke almost _flew_ over you." 

Jimmy groaned. "Stop."

"I couldn't let an opportunity like that _fly_ by me."

"I'm going to go back to sleep if you don't shut it," Jimmy threatened.

"Then you'd miss my wonderful company."

"Sounds like a win-win then," Jimmy mumbled and sank back down to the other man's shoulder as if he were to sleep.

"Twat," the man scolded in a whisper.

"No thanks, prefer dicks," Jimmy said without thought and froze immediately, mortified at what he just said, fearing for how the other man would react. 

He cursed himself ten times over and waited eight agonizing long seconds before 26A gave some kind of response.

It ended up being a bubbling laugh that was purer than anything Jimmy heard before. The man placed a fist over his wide mouth, muffling the noise, as his eyes crinkled into slits.

"Seriously, you two!" The stewardess fired, appearing at their seats. "This is your last warning. If you two continue on like this, I will have to separate you."

"There's no need. People are already getting up."

"Well, _some_ people are still sleeping. So _please_ stay quiet, otherwise I _will_ move you."

Okay, that was it. 

Jimmy couldn't take her attitude any longer. He leaned in close to her and spoke in a low heated voice, "You and I both know for a fact this plane is completely booked. There is nowhere to move us. So, good luck."

"And if you continue to berate us for no good reason," 26A joined in, "I shall inform my employer-you remember whom that is, right? - and he will contact your supervisor."

"I, uh," she faltered, paling. "Sorry about that, sir." 

She walked away, chewing on her lip.

"That shut her up," Jimmy smirked.

"You were pretty fierce yourself. How'd you know the plane is full?"

"I don't."

The two started laughing again.

"Breakfast gentlemen," the stewardess appeared after some time, wearing a plastered smile, and setting down their plethora of food gently. "Please let me know if there is anything else I can get you. Don't hesitate to ask."

"Cheers." 26A raised his coffee mug at her departure.

"Cheers!" Jimmy mirrored his action and clinked their mugs together, taking a long sip without fear of spit.

"Good morning everybody," the pilot's voice came on the overhead speaker at the end of their breakfast. "It is approximately 15:20 GMT time. We are about to begin our descent into Heathrow Airport. Our stewardesses ask that you please throw away all trash, lock your trays, and place your seats into the upright position. Thank you for joining us on your travels. We hope you enjoy your destination and choose to travel with us next time."

"So," the man reached around Jimmy to throw away his plate to a stewardess holding a trash bag, "are you as good with landing as you are with take-off?"

"Oh, shove it," Jimmy snorted, snapping up his tray.

"Imagine what would've happened if you sat somewhere else." He smirked.

"I wouldn't of had to endure four hours of Sandra Bullock," he deadpanned.

"You mean you would've never gotten the _opportunity_ to watch four hours of Sandra Bullock."

"If that's how-" Jimmy stopped as a frazzled stewardess rushed up to their seats.

She looked to the dark-haired man and spoke quickly, "You're Mr. Crawley's assistant, right?"

"Yes," he said irritated.

"You're needed in first class."

He sighed. "Tell him his medication is in the front pocket."

She shook her head. "It's not that, sir. You need to come see him immediately."

"Okay," he addressed the stewardess, who had already taken off to First-Class, and turned to Jimmy with an exasperated expression. "He probably needs his tie fixed or something ridiculous like that. I'll be back, yeah?"

"Yeah." Jimmy stood up to let him through once more, and the two locked eyes in passing, each smiling softly. 

And it was then, staring into the man's blinding sapphire eyes, Jimmy knew he was utterly gone. He made a mental vow to get his number, as well as his name, when he returned.

But 26A never returned. 

He stayed in First-Class all the way through landing. 

Jimmy was the first one out of his seat. He booked it to the front of the plane, having to stop for those in the first few rows who had cut in front of him.

He didn't have time for this. He needed to catch up with the man before he lost him forever.

He pushed through the line of people, throwing out apologies and receiving shouts and glares in return. He bolted up the metal jetway, keeping a keen eye out for dark-haired men and maroon sweaters. He found none.

He found none within the confines of the boarding area, the baggage pick-up center, and even the loos.

Jimmy stayed behind two extra hours just hoping for some kind of glimpse, but it was no use. 

The man was long gone.

◇

**4 Months Later**

It was a bit pathetic, if Jimmy was being completely honest, that he still thought about the man that sat next to him on the plane all those months ago.

Still thought about how he held his hand, offered his drink, whispered in his ear, creased his eyes when he laughed, and the bloody fact Jimmy never got his name.

He had over 12 hours to ask, and yet Jimmy managed to cock it up. 

Jimmy hated himself for it. 

He hated how his head would perk up at the sight of slickened black hair at the tops of train seats, only to be disappointed upon collecting their ticket that it wasn't him. 

He hated how he couldn't find any 'Crawley' through his endless Google searches that tied him back to the nameless man.

He hated that he couldn't move on.

"Cheer up, will you?" Alfred exclaimed, setting down a wooden crate of overflowing produce onto the cool kitchen steel counter. "This is a party."

"Yeah," Jimmy snorted, picking up a plump carrot and swinging it around by its stem, unenthused, "if we were in the 1900s."

Alfred immediately snatched the vegetable from Jimmy's grasped and chopped into cubes amongst a pile of onions and celery. "It's a Roaring Twenties themed party."

"Explains why everyone in there is ancient. They probably lived during the Roaring Twenties."

"Keep your voice down!" Alfred shushed, setting down his knife and frantically looking around the busy kitchen to make sure they weren't overheard. "These are really big clients I'm catering for. They flew me all the way from California for this. You know how expensive that is?"

"Yes, Alfred, I know. I was just there." He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Still trying to pay off that blasted plane ticket."

"This is really important, Jimmy. I don't want to screw it up." He slid the vegetables off his cutting board into large mixing bowl. "You're my plus one, so will you please at least pretend to have fun?"

"I don't know anyone here but you. Why else do you think I'd be sitting in this blasted kitchen?" He looked around the extravagant hotel kitchen, feeling much out of his comfort zone. 

"Go mingle!" Alfred urged, mixing a concoction of ingredients and spices into the bowl. "This is a _Grantham party_. Do you know how many rich people there are in there? Go get yourself a sugar daddy."

Jimmy shuddered. "Don't ever say that again."

"You don't know how many of my friends would've killed to be here."

"Should've invited one of them, then."

"You're my best mate here London. I didn't want to invite anyone else. So just do me a favor, yeah? Don't waste it. Go have fun, that way you can tell me all I'm missing out on. I know how you like to do that."

"Fine," Jimmy sighed,” but you're making me some of that good jam before you go back to LA."

"Done."

Jimmy squeezed his way out the kitchens and followed the trail of cater waiters to the lavish ballroom that was in full swing both literally and figuratively.

Live jazz music erupted from the center stage as couples young and old swing danced to their hearts' content. Rich business men networked around an open bar tucked into a dim corner, while their starving wives half their age gossiped nearby at gold plated tables with sparkling champagne clutched within their jeweled clad hands.

Jimmy whisked the first drink a cater waiter passed his way, gulping it down in one go. He slammed the empty flute on the poor girl's tray, and swapped it for the last full one.

"Keep these coming," he instructed. He was going to need a lot of alcohol if he was expected to last the night. 

He sipped on the bitter champagne, watching the people with their smarmy smiles exchange phony laughs. 

It sickened him.

"So, you hate parties as well as flying," a velvety voice came from behind.

"What?" Jimmy turned to see the last person he ever expected.

His heart thudded rapidly because no, this couldn't be real. 

He blinked twice to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. They had done that to him too many times before. 

But no, nothing changed.

26A was still standing before him, looking dashing with his hair combed to perfection in a pressed dark navy suit with matching tie, putting Jimmy's rented tux to shame.

"Oh," was all Jimmy could muster.

And fuck, he needed to pull himself together. He had waited months for this, hoping, even praying, for a chance encounter like this. And all he could do was gape.

No, he needed to get his act together. He needed to say something. Anything other than _oh_.

"Hi," he breathed.

_Hi_?! That's what he came up with it? _Hi._

Jimmy wanted to shove his head inside the displayed bronze gramophone. 

"Hi." The man's formed lips twisted into a small smile.

"I, uh, can't believe you're here," Jimmy sputtered, and at least that was something. "What are you doing here?"

"This is my boss's party."

Jimmy's brows furrowed. "I thought Crawley was your boss? Isn't this a Grantham party?"

"You remember that?" The man's eyes lit softly, and shit, Jimmy couldn’t look. After months of imagining, seeing the man this close was a bit overwhelming. "Well, uh, yeah, I work for Mr. Crawley. He owns the Grantham company, so this is kind of his party."

"Mhm," Jimmy hummed, the two falling into an incommodious lull to which Jimmy broke because he was weak. "Didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Yeah, I didn't even get your name," the man spoke quietly. "I had to leave in such a hurry. My boss's ulcer burst."

Jimmy's head snapped to him. "Shit, really? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's ripping it up on the dance floor," he pointed out to the crowd. "The party is actually a _welcome back_ sort of thing for him."

"Good...good," and c'mon Jimmy, he needed to put in more effort. He cleared his throat. "It's, erm, Jimmy by the way."

"Pardon?" The man cocked his head.

"My name...it's Jimmy Kent."

"Oh," the man's mouth twitched, offering a smooth hand. "I'm Thomas, Thomas Barrow."

_Thomas_. Yeah, Jimmy liked that.

"I can properly thank you now." Jimmy shook _Thomas'_ firm hand.

"For what?" 

"All your help on the plane." Jimmy rubbed at his neck, blushing. "I really am a shit flier."

" _Well_ ," Thomas spoke in alluring low tone, "now I know to never take you on a plane," 

"Oh, so where would you take me then?" Jimmy blodly suggested, quirking a brow.

Thomas played right into it, stating simply, "The beach."

"Why's that?"

"It's the lowest level to the ground. The farthest you can get from an airplane," he said with a teasing smile.

Jimmy chuckled a laugh. "I like that."

"But before we can ever do that," Thomas sighed, "I have to finish working this party and make sure no one else bursts an ulcer." He turned to Jimmy and jutted a jaw to the dance floor. "Come dance with me?"

"Yeah, okay" Jimmy licked his lips, and followed Thomas into the thick of the lively crowd, twirling and doing their best step-ball-chain.

"I have no idea how to swing!" Jimmy yelled over the blaring trombones, watching the people's expressive dance moves around them.

"It's easy, yeah?" Thomas shouted back, swaying to the beat, grinning madly. "Just follow me."

"Easy for you to say!"

And Thomas grabbed a hold of him, leading him into a turn.

"Not half bad," Thomas chuffed with an impressed pout.

"Not half good either," Jimmy laughed, stumbling as he turned back.

The two continued moving in wild circles, each sporadically pulling in each other in for a ridiculous twirl and wearing permanent smiles as the evening danced into night.

The brass band eventually had to take a respite, putting on a record of ballads in its place. 

"This more your speed?" Thomas murmured lightly against Jimmy's cheek, placing a teasing hand on the small of Jimmy's back as the two slowed danced.

"I could get used to it."

Thomas snorted, intertwining their free hands together as they swayed.

"Thomas!" A young girl with bobbed brown hair adorned with a wild orange feather tapped on his shoulder. "The caterer needs a word with you."

"Me?" He bit.

"You're the one who hired them, right? They need to discuss payment, and I don't know what you agreed upon." She stared at him with worried eyes, fiddling with her long pearls that hung over her beaded flapper dress. "Please, will you come sort this out?"

"I'll be there in a second, yeah?" The girl nodded and trotted away. Thomas sighed as he extracted himself from Jimmy. "I'll be back this time. I promise." He smiled which slightly eased Jimmy's sinking gut.

Thomas turned and only made it a few steps away before retreating back. He reached into his fitted coat, extracting a black pen and a folded piece of paper, elegantly writing on it and handing it to Jimmy. "And if I should happen to lose you, here's my number."

And for the first time, Jimmy felt okay with Thomas leaving. He wasn't going anywhere this time.

Jimmy was left in the center of a much too hot dance floor. He needed fresh air, so he weaved his way through the swaying mass and snuck out a side door.

The cutting wind snapped Jimmy out of his dreamy haze that was Thomas, giving him a moment to think clearly for the first time since his sudden reappearance.

Jimmy scrubbed his face, breaking out into a massive grin.

Thomas was back.

He had his name, his number, hell even had the name of his work. 

Just a mere hour ago, Thomas was still a nameless man that Jimmy could only hope of meeting again. The chances of which probably being less than 30% given the mass population of England.

All to which he owed Alfred a massive thank you for. Without him, he wouldn't have known about the party; he never would've ran into Thomas; and would've spent an enternity searching trains.

Then again, whom he truly needed to thank was the one who decided to hire _Utensils_ to cater because-

Wait... 

Wasn't Thomas the one whom hired them?

Wasn't that why the girl came to fetch him? To pay the caterers?

Then that meant...

Jimmy needed a cigarette. He fumbled in his pocket, moving past the neatly folded note, for his pack, extracting a long cigarette from it and lighting it.

"Good, you're here." Thomas poked his head out the door and joined him along side of the hotel building. "Thought I might've lost you again."

"No," Jimmy puffed on his cigarette, still thinking. "So, you got it settled with the caterers?

"Yeah, it was a bit of a mess." Thomas grumbled, pulling out a cigarette of his own.

"You hired the caterers, then?" 

"Yeah."

"Funny that," Jimmy smirked. "Out of all the restaurants in the world, you pick the one Alfred happens to work at."

Thomas' gaze shifted to the ground as he mumbled around his cigarette, "Funny how that works."

"A bit too funny," Jimmy crooned. "Alfred said they were flown in special for this event. Said the man _absolutely_ had to have the entire staff come and bring a plus one." He gaged Thomas' blank expression, trying to find a crack of expression. "Did you plan for me to come here, Thomas?"

"I, uh," Was Thomas _blushing_? "I was put in charge of catering for the party. I wanted to get good food, and I recalled you saying your mate was a chef at _Utensils_ , yeah? I couldn't think of his name, so I asked for them to bring the whole staff."

"And you had them all bring a guest?"

"Wanted everyone to have fun, so I told them to bring a guest. It just so happens you were Alfred's plus one."

"So, you did plan this." Jimmy smiled smugly. "You paid an entire staff-"

"Mr. Crawley paid."

"Okay, so you got Mr. Crawley to pay an entire staff to come here, invite someone, just so I'd come." 

"Don't be so vain. I certainly didn't plan for it to happen," he snarked, and then added softly, "but I did hope." 

Jimmy huffed a laughed, tossing back his head onto the rough brick exterior. "It's a miracle it worked out, really."

Thomas cocked his head, studying Jimmy with pursed his lips. "You're not mad?"

"No," Jimmy shook his head, laughing lightly. "Its a barking plan, but I'm relieved actually. I've been searching for you ever since the plane. Looked for you on all my trains."

Thomas lightened, his lips stretching into a reddened grin. "I've taken more trains in the past four months than I have my entire life."

The two bent over in laughs.

"God," Jimmy clutched his cramping stomach. "This feels like a poorly written Sandra Bullock movie."

"Or a highly clever written one," Thomas chimed to which Jimmy's eyes narrowed.

"You flew a restaurant staff _halfway across the world_ to cater your boss's party on the _off chance_ I might come. I would say that is a bit of stretch in plot. Don't you think?"

"It worked though, didn't? It got you here." 

Jimmy groaned, thunking his forehead to Thomas' chest. "Please tell me I'm not the Sandra Bullock character in all of this?"

Thomas lifted his chin up with a finger, bringing them eye to eye. "Of course, you are, love. Don't you remember me telling you that I adore Sandra Bullock?"

He pressed a light kiss to Jimmy's lips, and everything faded to black just like in a damn Romantic Comedy.

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy this incredibly cheesy story that I wrote forever and a day ago!


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